Late Night Encounters
by Kay Willow
Summary: Orihime goes to sleep with Ichigo and wakes up with someone else. //Ichigo/Orihime, Hollow/Orihime?//


**.late night encounters.**

Orihime started awake suddenly, dark night so deep around her still that it seemed to be pulling her back into sleep. She rubbed at her eyes with thin hands, unsure what had woken her but _tired_ still down to the bone, and she felt around the bed awkwardly for Ichigo's reassuring presence. It wasn't there.

_He was kidnapped!_ she thought with alarm, and then less imaginatively, _Maybe he had to go to the bathroom._ That was a little easier to wrap her head around at this time of night, and perfectly explained why he wasn't there. Orihime shifted slowly and sat up to wait for him to come back, still trying to massage her eyes into wakefulness.

"You're like a little kid."

Orihime stiffened and looked up quickly, zeroing in on that voice. He was sitting on the windowseat, a dark silhouette against the night, and she couldn't see the whites of his eyes -- only the odd gold glimmer of his eyes, like an animal's, and the dim reflection of the moon's light against his mask.

_Oh god, was there a Vasto Lorde in town and I didn't wake up?_ she thought, and managed a feeble, "Ichi...go...?" before she felt really, alarmingly awake, and knew that this wasn't Ichigo, wasn't him at all.

"Not really," said the creature. "I don't really have a name though, so I guess I won't complain if you want to call me that."

"I don't," Orihime countered, edging back a little. Her barettes were on the nightstand behind her, and she didn't quite feel safe without them. She also didn't really feel safe half-sprawled in bed in only a thin cotton nightgown, but she knew better than to think that wearing more clothing would give her anything more than the illusion of safety.

Even her _bulkiest_ ski jacket wouldn't protect her if he attacked her -- although she could see herself facing the Hollow in full skiing gear, wielding a ski pole to protect herself.

(She'd stick with the Shun Shun Rikka, all things considered.)

"What did you do to Ichigo?"

"Nothing!" But he grinned, a big, unpleasant grin. "What makes you think I'd do _anything_ to your precious boyfriend? After all, he and I are on such _great terms_ -- he gives me commands, tries to wrestle control from me the moment I get it, and never lets me have any fucking _fun_. What's not to _love_?"

She dove for the barettes but he was already there, fingers closing roughly on her wrist and his other hand shoving her to her back on the bed. He leered at her a little, saying, "Now this could be fun," and then Orihime clenched her jaw and snapped, "I reject!" and a sheet of gold formed between them, driving him back and into the far wall with a force that shook the thin apartment.

_I hope that didn't wake you, Ogata-san,_ she thought to her neighbor. She reached again for the nightstand, but the barettes weren't there.

The creature laughed and leapt to his feet, sounding more amused by her than anything. He held up his hand to show her the captured accessories, glinting green in the palm of his hand. "That _was_ fun," he said. "I didn't know you could do that without your toys. I'll keep it in mind."

Orihime wasn't going to talk to _him_ about her training; she demanded, "Are you here to kill me?" but she was thinking, _Ichigo, Ichigo, come back, please don't let him overwhelm you, please--_

"Don't group me in with those stupid mindless Hollows," the creature said disdainfully. "I'm way smarter. There's more to me than just hunger."

That wasn't what Ichigo had told her; the hunger for power, for freedom was just as much a hunger as one for souls. But Orihime only eyed the creature in Ichigo's body warily instead of arguing. "...so you're not here to kill me?"

He shook his head and snickered. "Nah. Sorry, sister, but you wouldn't put up an interesting fight, you know? No real combat, just a quick victory either way." He tipped his head back, looking up at the moon through the wide windows. "Besides, I told you. I'm smart. I have a plan."

"A... a plan?"

The creature glanced at her and tapped his temple, the odd thunking of his finger connecting with the bone mask more unsettling than it should have been. "Come on, you really think I'm going to tell you? You'll tell Ichigo and then I won't have _any_ fun. He's pretty good at ruining everything, if you give him the opportunity." Orihime couldn't believe her ears, but she'd almost swear there was grudging respect in that eerie voice.

She hovered, unsure what she was supposed to do now if the Hollow didn't want to fight her and didn't want to kill anyone else. He seemed to just want to stand there. Softly, she asked again, "What did you do to Ichigo?"

For a long moment, he didn't say anything, just stood there looking outside and not quite facing her. Then, almost imperceptibly soft, he said, "He's just sleeping. In the morning it'll be all him again. Don't get worked up about it."

"I wasn't," she murmured, because for a moment he reminded her of Ichigo; that quiet voice he used when something mattered to him, the gruff dismissal he used to disguise his own attachment. "I just-- I guess I just wanted to know."

The creature leaned back against the wall, arms folded over his chest. "You should go back to sleep. You weren't supposed to wake up anyway; I didn't fight my way out here just to babysit _his_ girlfriend."

Yeah, right, even Orihime didn't think she'd be able to sleep with... him, just standing there watching her. It would be impossible to get her mind to calm down at this point. She settled back onto the bed anyway, with her back to the headboard, and curled up with her chin on her knees to watch him.

They were like that for a long time; he leaned back against the wall and looked out at the lamp-lit world outside -- or inside, at her -- and she tried to find her Ichigo in the lazy lines of his stance or the distant illumination of his gold eyes. In the stillness and the dark, he was both familiar and unfamiliar, as if at any moment he might turn to smile at her with his lips in that familiar sentimental smile and his gaze father away than the streetlights below.

An eternity later there was a crinkling sound, and she was startled so badly by it that she must have drifted off. Orihime looked up guiltily to find that the Hollow had vanished from his window perch. The breath caught nervously in her throat, but when she put her hand down to push herself up, it landed on a warm, well-muscled shoulder, stretched taut between familiar scars.

The mask was crumbling away from Ichigo's face, leaving him serene and asleep, as if he had never moved from her side. Bone-white fragments of mask were already melting away, vanishing against the sheets.

Orihime watched him for a moment longer, and then slowly eased herself back to the mattress, reaching out to trail feather-light fingers over his cheek, the skin smooth and soft beneath her uncertain touch. "I'm glad you're okay," she whispered, speaking his language for _I love you._

In the morning he remembered nothing except waking up with a splitting headache, and Orihime fretted over him shamelessly, made him tea and brought him breakfast without any of the 'weird stuff' she liked to put in her own. She didn't say anything, because the Hollow hadn't _had_ to tell her he had a plan, but he had anyway, and she knew that he would know -- and remember -- if she kept it to herself.

She had a plan, too: maybe the next time she woke up in the middle of the night to a mask of bone, the creature would trust her more, and she'd have some ammunition to use against him other than "He has some sort of plan."

There were other ways to fight than with swords: Orihime would just have try being clever. Ichigo wasn't having any luck defeating his inner demons with swords. Strategy wasn't her strong suit, but she didn't mind going outside of her comfort zone if it meant protecting him.


End file.
